


The Infamous John Watson

by CalypsoFiremoon



Category: Sherlock BBC, wing!fic - Fandom
Genre: Gen, John Feels, John has wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 09:30:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6748378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalypsoFiremoon/pseuds/CalypsoFiremoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right before the pool scene, Mycroft Holmes walks into 221B to see wings on John Watson's back. Mycroft demands to know what happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Infamous John Watson

As soon as Mycroft Holmes saw John Watson he knew the latter was something special. Mycroft himself couldn’t figure out why he was so enthralled. Mycroft held a background check on John in his hands. John was an average person. Besides of the fact that John had been in a war, there was hardly anything out of the ordinary. Except after John’s service in Afghanistan, there was a missing gap of time. Mycroft had to know more. He was the British Government after all. If Mycroft wanted to know something, he will find out.   
During the next few days Mycroft began to plot. He arranged for his brother to leave on a case that would take Sherlock maybe a day and a half to solve. That precious time should be just enough for Mycroft to find out about John’s missing time gap. After he called his little brother about the case, Mycroft headed out towards 221B Baker St.   
Mrs. Hudson was not present. Mycroft knew that she was out meeting some friends. The British Government walked carefully up the stairs. He knew which steps would be agitated, and he cautiously avoided those. When he finally reached 221B, Mycroft’s caged heart almost stopped. 

John Watson lay on his stomach upon the couch. John was wearing an oatmeal jumper, jeans, and white socks. But what made Mycroft freeze was that a pair of large wings was attached to John’s back. The wings were a fiery red on top and faded to a black down to the wingtips. They were absolutely beautiful and entrancing to the human eye. For once in his life, Mycroft Holmes was dumbfounded. Did Sherlock know about John’s wings? Did anyone know about those beautiful wings? How did John get them? Was John perhaps born with them? A million questions ran through Mycroft’s mind. They must be answered.   
As Mycroft’s mind raced, John began to show signs of waking. The winged man stretched his body and the wings ruffled themselves. He rubs his eyes and yawned. Then, his eyes blearily blinked open. As soon as John saw Mycroft, John’s eyes widened. 

“H-how long have you been here?” John stammered, lifting his back vertically.

Mycroft snorted. It was an unusual sound coming from the man. John had never heard it from Mycroft before.  
“I’ve been here long enough to figure out at least several possibilities as to why you have-“

“Wings,” John interrupted. “Nothing came up in my background check about it?”

“Nothing on your wings is what we have on your background check.” Mycroft corrected. “Perhaps you could explain to me why there is a missing gap in your file.”

John’s breath hitched. His fists clenched and unclenched themselves unconsciously.   
“Ask me yourself,” John challenged.

“Born?” Mycroft asked.  
John shook his head.

“Exotic drug overdose,” Mycroft tried.

John burst out laughing. His wings shook in mirth. “I’ve never taken drugs willingly in my life.”

Mycroft frowned in frustration. “What about Afghanistan?”

John immediately stopped laughing. His mouth bent in a frown. “What about it?”

“Did something happen in Afghanistan?” Mycroft elaborated.

“Nothing happened to me other than being shot, no.” John replied shortly. 

Mycroft pressed his lips together. He knew the war was a sensitive spot in John’s mind. He shouldn’t have pressed. John crossed his arms. A smirk twitched in the corner of his mouth.

“Did I stump Mycroft Holmes?” John asked, smirking widely. 

Mycroft didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to guess something that was completely off without pissing off John. He knew he was stumped. But his pride refused to admit it vocally. John smirked again. He stood up and stretched out his back. 

“Tea?” John asked making his way towards the kitchen.

“No thank you,” Mycroft replied. “I want answers.”

John laughed. “You and Sherlock are so much alike you know?” 

“That would be considered an insult to the both of us.” Mycroft sniffed. “However, you are correct.”

John smiled as he put the kettle on the stove to boil. He waited a few minutes until the water was hot enough to make the tea. He arranged a couple teacups onto saucers and poured the beverage. He offered the tea to Mycroft who took it willingly. Then john sat in his chair and took a sip of his own tea before he began.

“When I was honorably discharged in Afghanistan I didn’t even get out of the country before I was taken. It all happened so fast, I don’t quite remember. But when I woke up, I was strapped to a bed, not a situation I want to be in again. I don’t know how long I was with him. But what he did to me was awful Mycroft.”

John paused to take a sip of tea in order to collect his thoughts. Mycroft sat unmoving, transfixed by John’s story.

“The man that I was captured by was Jim Moriarty. He was very confident that I couldn’t escape. He had drugs tested on me. That’s what I was to him, a gopher, only an animal to try things on. I simply hated it. Then I woke up after being induced with some weird drug I found the wings on my back. They felt heavy and odd. Moriarty was ecstatic. He kept on touching them and threatening to pull my feathers out. I immediately became protective over them. He let me out of the bed and then I took my chance and escaped. I still don’t believe that I’ve seen the last of him. I flew to London, for I was taken to Spain I found out later. Then I ended up here.” 

John became silent after speaking so much. He wasn’t sure how Mycroft would react. John was so afraid that he’d be locked up again. Would he tell Sherlock? John couldn’t live with the idea that Sherlock knew John had wings. The Consulting Detective would never leave John alone. Plus the fact that John had been in the care, no captured by Moriarty would not go well either. 

“Your secret is safe with me.” Mycroft said confidently. “Sherlock will never know what happened to you unless you wish it.”

John gasped. “You mean it?” John asked excitedly. He stood up and his wings shook in happiness. 

“You don’t know how much this means to me.” John said. “Thank you so much.”

“No John, thank you.” Mycroft replied. “Now I have all the answers I need. Please be careful.”

“I will.” John promised.   
Mycroft rose from Sherlock’s chair. “Now I must leave you Dr. Watson. Sherlock should be returning soon. Put my teacup away or else he will know that I’ve been here.”

“Right,” John immediately set to work on rearranging the kitchen to exploit any evidence that Mycroft was there.

“What about Moriarty?” John stopped to turn around to find no Mycroft. 

“Holmes’s and their dramatics,” John sighed shaking his head.

 

 

 

Sherlock didn’t arrive until an hour later. John made his wings disappear at will just as Sherlock burst dramatically into the room. 

“Tea’s ready,” John announced as Sherlock plopped into his chair.

Sherlock ignored John. He opened his laptop and began typing furiously.

“Sherlock tea,” John snapped, slamming down the kettle. He hated being ignored.

Sherlock ignored John again. He was still typing rigorously on his computer. 

John cursed. “I’m going out.” He announced grabbing his coat and stomping down the stairway. 

When John walked out onto the street, he was pissed. He couldn’t believe that Sherlock could just ignore him like that. Who did he think he was? When John bumped into someone he didn’t even bother to apologize. Then, he felt someone grab his shoulder. 

“What do you want?” John growled, forgetting his manners.

“You Dr. Watson,” A deep voice replied. 

John felt a needle pinprick his neck. He tried fighting it off, but he soon fell into darkness.

 

When John woke, his head throbbed. His limbs felt heavy and he smelled chlorine. He slowly opened his eyes to find himself heavily laden in the necklace of bombs just as the other captives were. 

“Rise and shine, Johnny-boy,” an Irish voice sang across the room.

“Oh, no,” John whimpered. “Not you please no.”

“Oh, I’m afraid so Johnny,” Moriarty stepped out of the shadows and into John’s line of vision.

“What do you want with me?” John asked, tears ready to drip from his eyes. 

Moriarty walked closer to the soldier. He ran a hand through John’s hair making the other man shiver.   
“You are going to do exactly as I say,” Moriarty whispered into John’s ear. “If you don’t then I’ll blow up this building with you and Sherlock in it.”

“I’ll do what you say.” John replied. “Just don’t hurt Sherlock.”

“Good,” Moriarty praised. “I want you to show him your wings.”

“No, please, he mustn’t know about them.” John begged. “He’ll cast me away as some freak. I’ll have to leave, please no.” 

“Shut up,” Moriarty commanded, back-handing John. “Now, show them.”

John sighed, shaking nervously as he willed his wings to appear. They quivered expressing John’s fear.

“Oh, they’re so beautiful Johnny,” Moriarty sighed ruffling the red feathers. 

They both sat up as they heard the pools door slam shut. Sherlock began to speak, his voice echoing throughout the building.

“Showtime, Johnny,” Moriarty grinned. “Go out now.” 

John took a deep breath. He began walking out into the poolroom.

“All to distract me from this,” Sherlock declared, holding up a USB. 

Sherlock froze when he turned to see John-with wings? 

“John what the hell,” Sherlock breathed out.

“Evening,” John replied in a neutral voice. “Bet you never saw this coming?”

“John, what are those?” Sherlock asked glancing at the fiery wings. 

“What do you want me to make him say next?” John replied revealing the bombs underneath the parka. 

“Nice place this, where little Carl died.” John continued. “I stopped him. I can stop John Watson too, stop his heart.”

“Who are you?” Sherlock demanded. He was so confused. Why did John have wings?

“I gave you my number,” Moriarty replied. “I thought you might call.” 

John visibly shivered. His wingtips trembled. Sherlock couldn’t figure out why John was so scared. 

“Jim Moriarty.” Moriarty announced. “Hi. Jim, Jim from the hospital? Hmm, did I leave such a fleeting impression; because that was rather the point?” 

John’s wings shook like falling leaves. He remembered his time with Jim. This was the voice that he used almost constantly. It was pushing him into a panic attack. 

“Oh no Johnny doesn’t look to well does he?” Moriarty asked. 

“John, what’s wrong?” Sherlock asked, stepping forward.

“You can talk Johnny-boy go on,” Moriarty encouraged, like one was talking to an animal.

John bit his lip. He couldn’t possibly explain himself while this fearful. So he shook his head.   
Moriarty’s eyes darkened. He bared his teeth and stalked up behind John. Jim grabbed a handful of John’s plumage tightly, making John cry out and arch into Jim. 

“Do not test my mercy.” Jim growled into John’s ear. “It seems as if I have been too lenient with you gentlemen.”

“Stop right there,” Sherlock ordered, drawing out John’s gun from his back pocket.

“Is that a Browning L9A1 in your hand?” Jim inquired. “Or are you just pleased to see me?”

“Both,” Sherlock quipped, steadying the gun in his palm.

“Now, Johnny, tell dear Sherlock how you got your wings.” Moriarty ordered. 

John couldn’t look in Sherlock’s eyes as he answered. “You gave them to me. I was kidnapped by you for who knows how long, and then you drugged me until these things appeared upon my back. That was how I got my wings, you bastard.”

Sherlock stared at John in shock. He had never seen John this way. How John could have been in the possession of Moriarty and Sherlock had not seen it?   
Moriarty backhanded John with his fist. A purple bruise formed on John’s cheek where he had been struck. 

“Watch your tongue,” Moriarty sneered. “You forget how powerful I am.”

John grimaced. He felt his bruising cheek and looked at Sherlock with worrisome eyes. 

“Now, I must be off, you two gentlemen must have plenty to talk about.” Moriarty announced. “Ciao Sherlock Holmes”

“Catch you later.” Sherlock declared.

“No you won’t!” Jim sang and he snapped his fingers making the sniper lasers turn off. 

John sighed in relief and fell to his knees. His wings flared out to their entire wingspan. 

“John, what the hell was Moriarty talking about?” Sherlock demanded while taking the necklace of bombs off John. 

“D-don’t say his name.” John replied. “I can’t stand his name.”

“John, I don’t understand.” Sherlock declared. 

“Please Sherlock not now,” John pleaded. “Wait ‘til we get home.”

“Sorry boys!” James Moriarty waltzed right back into the pool room. “I’m so changeable. I couldn’t allow you to continue. You just can’t. I would explain, but everything I’ve got so   
say has already crossed your mind!”

“Perhaps my answer has crossed yours.” Sherlock retorted, re-aiming the gun at Moriarty.

The villain continued to smirk. His confidence was radiating through the pool-room. John’s wings fell limp, and he looked slowly at Sherlock. The consulting detective looked down at John, who nodded. Then Sherlock lowered his arm until the barrel was aiming at the bombs John previously wore. Moriarty’s grin lowered to a frown as he realized what Sherlock was thinking. The trio stared at each other trying to figure out if someone, anyone was bluffing.   
A few heartbeats later, a song rang through the pool. Those familiar chords first played and then the lyrics began to sing through the room. John covered his ears, afraid of a panic attack brewing. Sherlock glanced down at John in concern. He looked around to find the source of the music. Then, Moriarty sighted dramatically. 

“Do you mind if I get that?” He asked as if he needed permission. 

“Go ahead you have the rest of your life.” Sherlock drawled out. 

John looked at Moriarty. John lowered his hands and let them fall in his lap. John’s wings began to tremble again as his anxiety built. Moriarty lifted his cell phone to his ear.

“Say that again!” Moriarty demanded, his voice shaking the building. “Say that again and if I find out your lying, I will skin you.”

John shivered as Moriarty spoke. Sherlock stared at Moriarty as he listened to the unknown voice on the other line.   
Moriarty suddenly lowered his phone. He looked at the two other men and bit his bottom lip.

“Sorry, wrong day to die.” Moriarty announced, his voice sounding as if he were thinking. 

“Did you get a better offer?” Sherlock inquired. 

Moriarty smirked. He lifted his phone back to his ear. 

“If you’re telling the truth, I can make you rich. But if you’re lying, I’ll turn you into shoes.” 

Moriarty snapped his fingers, and the lasers blinked off. John began to dry heave as his anxiety caught up with him. Sherlock scratched the back of his head with John’s gun. 

“H-he was here Sherlock.” John gasped curling into a ball with his wings covering him. 

Sherlock ceased pacing. He turned to look at John only to see the wings. Sherlock knelt down and cautiously pried the wings apart. The feathers were so soft, like a puff of cloud. John’s face was buried in between his knees. His arms covered his head trying to block out whatever was assaulting him. 

“John, look at me.” Sherlock ordered grasping John’s arms. 

The doctor lifted his tear stained face. Sherlock’s eyes softened as he looked at his best friend. 

“Let’s go home.” Sherlock suggested. 

John nodded. Sherlock helped his friend to rise and they left the pool feeling closer than they were before. 

 

END


End file.
